


Branched Hearts Blooming

by Tassos



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Pining, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: Max Trevelyan's father visits Skyhold and brings with him a surprise proposal. Caught between his family and his new friendships, Max's bonds with Cullen and Dorian are tested as simmering feelings come to the surface.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	Branched Hearts Blooming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonster/gifts).



The Herald's Rest was crowded after the evening watch change on the night before Lord Trevelyan was due to arrive at Skyhold. The Herald of Andraste, his Worship the Inquisitor Max Trevelyan was currently being held forcibly in his seat on a long bench by Sera draped over his shoulders like a blanket.

"I really ought to go check that everything's in order," he said for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Josie's people have already taken care of everything!" Sera said, leaning harder on his back. Max tried to relax. He did. Really. But his father was arriving tomorrow and everything had to be perfect.

"Here, you're not drunk enough," Dorian said from his other side, putting his tankard of ale back in his hands. Max was too nervous to drink, but he took a dutiful swig anyway.

"It's not helping," he said.

"Well, think of it this way," Dorian said. "You've already met my father and you can't get much worse than that."

Max made a face, because Dorian's father was a piece of work. But he wasn't Max's father so it didn't really help much.

"What are you worried he'll say?" asked the Iron Bull from across the table. "You're the Inquisitor!" 

"I was supposed to be a Brother," Max grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He's been Inquisitor for all of two months, and he still felt like he should turn around and look behind him whenever anyone called him by his title. He lay awake at night convinced they were all going to realize he was a fraud and throw him from the balcony at any moment now. 

"Inquisitor is a step up from having a stick up your arse," Sera said, finally getting off of him.

"Finish your drink," Dorian nudged him. He knocked his tankard against Max's with a grin. "Here's to fathers impossible to please."

"Glad I don't have a father," Sera said with feeling, getting a "Hear, hear," and a toast of her own from Iron Bull. Sera eyed him skeptically, but drank up. "Not sure what you nutters have counts the same," she told him, making Bull laugh.

"Maybe not, but we don't get twisted up the same way these heathens do."

"Watch it. You're a heathen now too," Dorian said.

"Ah, don't remind me." Bull's tone was cheerful, but the assassination attempts were fresh in their minds. Iron Bull didn't let the moment get awkward, though. "So. Your father. It's a long way to come for a visit."

"Josephine's thrilled," Max shrugged. "She says it'll be good for support from the Marches."

"You don't think he just wants to see you?"

Max shrugged again, not sure what to think really. He was the third child, sent to the Chantry to embody the family's honor and support. 

After he took his first vows to become a brother at fifteen he hadn't seen his father much outside of formal events and balls held by the Trevelyans or after Chantry services when his father asked after his studies. He'd gone to the Conclave as both a representative of his family and the Ostwick Chantry, and afterward. Well. His archery lessons had come in handy. 

He'd exchanged several letters at Josephine's insistence, but they'd been formal things. Official correspondence and only one note from his mother tucked into his father's formal reply that expressed the family's gratitude to the Maker that he was alive and well with a post-script from his brother.

"I think he wants to see me," Max said slowly, cautiously examining the vulnerable bit of his heart that always wanted to make his father proud and would show off his recitations of the Chant and his first responsibilities administering to the Ostwick poor. "But I haven't seen him in so long, and everything is different now."

"Fortunately you've had a lot of experience being impressive lately," Dorian clapped him on the back. His hand was warm and comforting, rubbing a little before dropping away. Max was grateful for it. Dorian gave him a commiserating smile and nudged his tankard toward him again.

On his other side, Sera leaned in and said, "And if he don't like what you've done with place, I've got some bees we can dump in his drawers," making Max laugh in fond exasperation.

"Please don't put bees in my father's drawers or anywhere."

"Fine then. Snakes in his bed!"

"Classic!" Iron Bull agreed, and Max had had just enough to drink that all he could do was put his head in his hands and hide his face against Dorian's shoulder while Sera and Iron Bull kept going with ever more outrageous prank ideas. 

"Make them stop!" he groaned.

"There, there," Dorian patted his back, laughing at him. "It'll be fine. Here, drink."

Max groaned again, but did as he was told because that was the only way to get through this.

* * *

Skyhold was abuzz with excitement and circumstance the next day. Josephine was in full form making sure all the last minute arrangements were seen to, and commanding her army of stewards and servants with her board of notes like a general. Cullen stayed out in the courtyard and out of her way. Spot inspections kept the garrison occupied and out from underfoot while they awaited the arrival of the Inquisitor's family.

Cullen had to confess—though never out loud—that he was curious about what Lord Trevelyan was like. Max was unassuming at first glance, of a build and complexion that invited overlooking. His temper was slow to catch, but when it did, he was a force to be reckoned with. Lord Trevelyan's reputation, according to Josephine, was that he too was a force to be reckoned with in Ostwick and the eastern Marches.

Lord Trevelyan certainly believed in making a statement, Cullen observed when they arrived at last. A full company of household guards accompanied the half-dozen nobles at the head of the column. Two dozen servants brought up the rear with a pair of laden-down wagons that had laboriously made the climb up the cliffs. It was a bit much, in Cullen's opinion, when Skyhold would provide for their guests. No need to punish the cart-horses like that.

They greeted the party in the courtyard. Lord Trevelyan had a stern visage that didn't crack when he dismounted. Where his looks didn't strongly favor the Inquisitor's, the younger man beside him was clearly Max's brother with the same charming smile and dimples. 

"Father." Max gave a bow in accordance with etiquette. Lord Trevelyan returned the courtesy and then studied his son for a long moment.

At last he said, "Maxwell. You've certainly surprised us all," and extended his hands which Max took in a familiar gesture. The tension dropped from his posture, and he grinned, eliciting a smile from his father and then an embrace from his brother.

The ice broken, Max welcomed his family to Skyhold. "I can't believe you came all this way!" he said.

"You are my son. You were supposed to be safe in the Chantry not mixed up in all of this! When we heard—" Lord Trevelyan shook his head. "You have done far more than I ever expected you capable of." 

Cullen frowned at his phrasing, but Max was smiling, maybe even basking in his father's presence.

"Who would have thought you had a spine in there?" his brother joked. 

"Certainly not me!" Max replied. "But please, you must introduce your guests. We have a feast waiting, or as close as we get to feasts here," he added wryly.

"Yes, your castle is rather rough. Not nearly as fine as Eoswen," Lord Trevelyan noted, glancing around. Cullen exchanged a glance with Josephine who raised an eyebrow in return, not pleased by the comment. Max took no offense, however, and Lord Trevelyan was gesturing for their companions to step forward. A young noble woman and man, siblings by their resemblance of fair hair and complexion. Another matronly woman stood at their heel—a chaperone was Cullen's guess, but impossible to tell whether she was related to the other two. 

"May I introduce serahs Greta and Oliver Chantallon. You may remember them from your childhood before you entered the Chantry."

The nobles looked a year or two younger than Max. They bowed and curtseyed, and Max inclined his head.

"A little yes! We played in the gardens. I seem to recall we got quite muddy."

"You pushed me into a puddle," said Lady Greta, with a twist to her lips that could have been hiding laughter or annoyance. 

The nobles all found it funny though, and Lord Trevelyan seemed especially pleased when Max ducked his head bashfully and said with that devastating smile of his, "I was a right terror as a child."

Cullen felt a twinge in his chest when Lady Greta melted under his charm. Max had a way of putting you at the center of his attention with absolute sincerity. He was a young man who cared deeply and wanted to make everyone happy and their lives better. Max had seen enough of the world to know its hardships, but he hadn't faced a challenge like the grueling work needed to rebuild the war-torn landscape the world had become. Nevertheless, he'd risen to meet the demands Andraste made of him without complaint. Cullen admired that greatly. 

"Messere has grown into an admirable man," Lady Greta said demurely.

"Oh, well," Max stammered, caught off guard by the flutter of her eyelashes.

"My son, you have," Lord Trevelyan declared. "An admirable man of the Trevelyan family who is in need of a wife."

There was a collective inhalation of breath among the greeting party. Cullen glanced sharply at Josephine who had quirked her eyebrows into a frown that was her tell that she was as taken by surprise by the announcement as the rest of them.

Lord Trevelyan continued oblivious. "Maxwell, Lady Greta has consented to be your betrothed."

For his part Max looked like he'd been slapped with a wet fish. "I'm sorry, Father. What?"

* * *

"A betrothal!" Dorian hadn't thought he could be this angry at a parent not his own. He was outraged! Incensed! The presumption! The gall to come to his son's holding and demand that Max cow before his father's demands in a transaction that was clearly meant to benefit the Trevelyans and not the Inquisition.

"I guess that answers the question of why he wanted to come," Bull said with far too much calm. The two of them were sitting at Varric's table while the dwarf shamelessly had his ear to the door to Josephine's office where Max had retreated with his father and brother an hour or so ago. The advisors had gathered in the war room to regroup. Across the hall Lady Vivienne had taken over host duties with the Chantallon siblings who had been clearly unprepared for Max's reaction to their presence. 

"Look on the bright side," Bull went on. "At least you can commiserate with Max about how shitty your parents are."

"Yes, let's take comfort in the fact that it's not just Tevinter parents that wish to ruin their offsprings' lives," Dorian said dryly. 

The door to the hall to Josephine's office opened and Varric hurried out. "Heads up! Act natural!" he said, plopping himself at the nearest table as if he'd been sitting there all along. A handful of seconds later the door opened again, and Max strode thought the hall, a scowl on his face that he was trying and failing to hide. Dorian felt rage bubble through him once more at seeing him so distraught, and when Max stormed out he followed.

"Max!" Dorian caught up to him at the base of the stairs and pulled him toward the alcove by the dungeon door. 

Max huffed, arms crossed and color high in his cheeks. He paced in a quick circle before facing it and hitting the stone with the flat of his hand.

"That bad, was it?" Dorian asked glancing around to make sure no one saw and banking his own anger because one of them should have a level head.

"I was never supposed to marry anyone except the Chantry," Max said, turning. "I was supposed to go and do good works and live fulfilled by Andraste's love and I didn't get a say in that but I believed in the work I was doing and I believe in the work I'm doing now, and he just—" He made a noise of frustration, but Dorian grabbed his hand before he could strike the wall again. Max's fingers flexed against his, but he didn't let go.

"What did he say?"

"He said that I need a wife to fulfill our family honor and obligations now that I'm a heretic. I need good alliances to show I'm still among the Faithful, and that once all this _nonsense_ was done I'd appreciate it when I came home."

"Ah, yes, when the leader of the only organization doing something about the darkspawn and demons threatening the end of the world needs to go home to the protection of his father's house." Dorian scoffed. 

"But I will have to go home some day," Max said, dropping his hand and crossing his arms again. "I can't go back the Chantry after this."

Dorian glanced at him sharply, but Max was serious, a little frown between his brows that showed his worry. "You do realize he's making a power play, _for you_?" he said.

"He's my father—"

"He's a Marcher Lord trying to lock you into a marriage of his choosing so when you come home _one of the most powerful people in Thedas_ he has you positioned where he wants you."

Max frowned harder but he didn't protest, reassuring Dorian slightly that he wasn't being willfully blind to the situation. Max was smart enough and had enough savvy to know Dorian was telling him the truth, even if he didn't want to believe it.

"I'm not one of the most powerful people in Thedas," Max mumbled. 

"You've fought three dragons and put the King of Ferelden in your debt. Don't underestimate yourself."

Max rolled his eyes at him.

"What did you tell him?" 

"That I'd have to think about it."

With how he'd stormed out of there, Dorian was surprised Max had given him that much. Then, because of the many mornings the two of them had spent watching Cullen working with the recruits, he asked, "Do you even like women?"

To his surprise, Max dropped his gaze and his face darkened in a blush that was accompanied by an equally dark scowl at the ground. "That's why Lady Greta came with her brother. I'd still have to marry her of course, but my father wanted to make sure I had an agreeable alternative in case my tastes from my youth hadn't changed."

"Maker's balls," Dorian swore, a little in awe at the nerve of Lord Trevelyan. He had to squash the flicker of jealousy that Max's father would even give him an option of a male lover that would be acknowledged in public if not in law in the way of the Southerners.

"Maxwell!" A call from the stairs above had them both looking up at the man running down them. The brother, Dorian presumed.

"I should go back," Max said with a sigh. "I can't believe I walked out on my father."

"You should tell your father where he can shove his marriage proposal," Dorian said, but Max only grimaced and followed his brother back inside.

* * *

"We need to weigh the good that can come of having strong Marcher support against having them turn against us," Josephine said. "I'm not saying that the Inquisitor has to follow through. In fact he should not. We should encourage more marriage proposals."

"So he's to be bartered about like a prize bull?" Cullen had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, fists clenched as tightly as he was holding on to his temper.

"Don't be crass, Cullen," Leliana said. "He wouldn't even have to talk to any of the other suitors that come calling. Josie can handle that. It would all be very formal."

"This is an opportunity to entice more interest in our cause," Josephine said, gently. "With our recent victories in the Exalted Plains, the Orlesians are beginning to pay attention too. If we can solidify our alliances in the east they'll be more likely to want to curry our favor."

Cullen hated that she was being so practical about it. He glared at the map with its markers and notes of their progress, and the worst part was that they desperately needed the support from Orlais if they hoped to run down the Red Templars in the west. And yet, the whole politicization of a man's life like this made his stomach turn.

"I don't like. It's not honest. This is more than just alliances at stake here," he said.

"I'm not suggesting we do anything without consulting Max," said Josephine.

"But he'll agree!" Cullen snapped. "He'll agree because he trusts us to advise him on the best moves for the Inquisition, and he's enough of a self-sacrificing idiot that he'll even agree with your logic and go along with it, never mind that it's his personal life we're bandying about."

Across from him, Josephine and Leliana exchanged a look, and when they turned back both of their faces held nothing but concern. 

"Cullen," Leliana began. "Is there more that we should know about?"

"More?" Cullen frowned, not following.

"You have been spending a lot of time with Max recently."

Leliana and her eyes everywhere. Cullen glared at her. "What we talk about in private is none of your concern," he said, his skin itching just thinking about it.

"Of course it isn't. I didn't mean to pry," Leliana said easily. "I just meant that you've become close recently. And you seem to be especially disturbed by talk of Max marrying. Is there anything between you—?

"No!" Cullen took a step back from the war table, so surprised by the notion he didn't know what to do with it. "Of course not!" He felt his face heating up as her hints fell into place.

"Oh Cullen, there's nothing wrong with caring for another man," Josephine said, her stance softening and a smile in her eyes.

"Thank you, Josephine, I'm Ferelden," Cullen said and only realized the trap too late. Josephine put aside her writing board and Leliana sat on the edge of the war table. Both of them had terrible gleams in their eyes. As one, they leaned in, their advisor personas shed to reveal the horrible gossips they were.

"You do care for him, don't you?" Leliana said. "You're friends. You've been having private chats, and he drags you to dinner sometimes."

"He and Dorian watch you training in the morning," Josephine said.

"Even if you aren't seeing each other now, the possibility certainly seems alive between you," Leliana picked up smoothly.

"So do you?" Josephine asked. 

Feeling like his head was spinning, Cullen looked back and forth between them and wondered if there was a way to answer the question that wouldn't end with his true feelings sussed out and examined as if they were part of their campaign to bring order to the world.

The problem was he did like Max. More than he should probably. In those first few months in Haven when everything was chaos, they had had a few late night conversations about being two Chantry boys thrown far from where they ever expected to be, but committed to the Inquisition and its promise all the same. They had become friends, and when a few weeks ago, the lyrium withdrawal had been so bad Cullen had been having thoughts so black he felt charred from within, Max had held his hand and offered him the strength and hope to stay his course. He'd started stopping by Cullen's office more frequently when he was in Skyhold, and when he wasn't, Dorian had mysteriously asked him if he played chess, and the two of them had struck up an unlikely friendship.

But none of that had crossed any deeper lines, and he certainly wasn't going to share any of that with Leliana and Josephine. 

"We are friends," he said finally. "And as his friend, I can tell you that he is not used to these political games." He gave each of them a look, and then sighed, because they were his friends too. "I just don't want to see him hurt."

"No," Josephine said, her expression turning determined. "Neither do I. You're right that we should take care if we decide to pursue this strategy."

"But first, we'll need to support him through this mess with his father," Leliana sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. She smiled at Cullen, one that softened the angles of her face and touched the corners of her eyes with mischievous intent. "And if you should need help wooing Max—"

"I don't need your help—I'm not—Arg! Stop meddling, Leliana!" Cullen blushed again, his tongue tied and his words all turned around. This was why the cursed women handled the interrogations. Leliana laughed, and Josephine grinned at him, the expression slipping into a fond smile.

"Just remember that we are here for you too," she said.

"Mind your own business," Cullen grumbled but with little heat. In truth, he couldn't entirely contain a pleased smile of his own, ducking his head to hide it from their teasing. He was warmed by their care, even though he and Max were friends and only friends and had no intention of becoming more.

* * *

"Really, Maxwell. You're a grown man now, not a child," was the first thing his father said to him when he returned to the Great Hall. He broke from where he'd been standing with the Chantallons and Vivienne. They were far enough from the tables where curious onlookers kept an eye on them to give them the appearance of privacy. "Storming off in the middle of a conversation is beneath your station."

Max's ears flushed hot, and he ducked away from the judgement that found him wanting. He was seven kinds of fool, and he'd known it. Whatever righteousness he'd felt in his earlier anger withered and left him feeling like he'd been caught sneaking out after curfew by the Mother Superior. 

"I'm sorry, Father, I just needed some air."

"If you can't discuss important matters without interruption you have no business making important decisions."

"On the contrary, taking step back is often exactly what important matters need. Wars have been averted by such consideration—or caused by that lack," Dorian spoke up behind him.

"And who are you exactly to offer such pronouncements?" Father asked, his sharp eyes raking over Dorian with clear contempt.

Dorian gave a shallow bow with a flourish of his hands managing to look elegant and refined while not looking cowed at all. Max didn't know quite how he managed it. 

"Dorian of the House of Pavus, at your service."

"Pavus," Max's father frowned. "Not a name I've heard of. It sounds Tevinter."

"That would be because I am from Tevinter," Dorian blithely replied, and Max saw the moment it registered on his father's face. Horror and disgust, and one of his hands came up as if to cover his mouth and nose from a foul stench. Max watched, and he'd forgotten this. He'd been away from his family in the Chantry and that now felt another lifetime ago. 

So he wasn't prepared when Father spat, "You're not a mage, are you?" 

"Again, at your service." Dorian gave a slight incline in the affirmative. His eyes were flinty above his smile, and he snapped a flame to life in the palm of his hand to confirm it.

Father turned from Dorian, his face red and enraged. "You associate with a Tevinter mage?" he demanded of Max.

"Father -"

"After everything I taught you, everything our family stands for, you turn your back on the Chantry and welcome this . . . this . . ."

"Necromancer," Dorian supplied, adding fuel to the fire. 

Max waved his hands trying to silence both of them, but his father wasn't listening. "Blasphemy! You have been corrupted! They turned their back on the Maker in that forsaken country, and you have one of them in your midst!"

"Father, please. Stop." Max didn't know what to say, felt the edges of panic crawling up his spine at the scene they were causing. He looked helplessly at Dorian whose glare softened when their eyes met.

"Don't trouble yourself about it Inquisitor. I'm quite used to being the butt of the South's rage toward my country."

"You are no less guilty, walking around in defiance of the Maker's will!"

Things devolved from there. Vivienne tried to intervene and smooth things over but that only prompted Max's father to declare that he would spread the word of the troubling alliances the Inquisition was making and they could expect support from the Free Marches to evaporate if Max didn't make the right alliances now to salvage the situation. Max's brother didn't help, and only the Iron Bull coming over with a hearty smile and a "What's all the fuss about?" to divert attention from Dorian and onto the equally scandalous recruitment of a Qunari was enough to drive Max's father into an even greater rage.

Max was left with his head spinning and a distinct difficulty in breathing. Everyone was talking around him and more people were coming in from the hallway. Someone touched his arm and he flinched back. All he could feel was gutted when Father shouted, "You've brought shame and dishonor on our name. If you continue down this path you'll be no son of mine!"

The buzzing noise inside his head somehow leapt outside of it. Max blinked, trying to focus while people shrieked and swatted at the air around them. Sera appeared from right in front of him, making eye contact and taking his hand.

"Run!" she said, and it seemed like the most sensible suggestion right then with bees buzzing and stinging around them that Max didn't even hesitate.

* * *

Dorian was fine. "You don't need to hover!" he told Iron Bull for the fifth time. "I'm fine. Lord Trevelyan didn't say anything I haven't heard before. Our own people say things like that all the time!" 

"They don't. At least not anymore," said Iron Bull. They'd gone to the Herald's Rest because alcohol and a chat was Bull's answer to everything. Dorian was aware that the alcohol was a means to making him chat, but he let himself be manipulated anyway. It was nice to have someone so worried about him after that nightmare up in the Great Hall.

"Maybe not where you can hear," he grumbled, though Bull was mostly right. After the Inquisition had arrived at Skyhold, only the Chantry Sisters persisted in making less than kind comments about his undue influence. But Dorian was drinking and he was wallowing. It's not like he could ever forget that he was the despised foreigner when they went beyond Skyhold's gates.

"Who said something?" Bull demanded, and Dorian sighed and waved him off.

"No one. Calm down. I'm really fine, you know." He scratched at one of the stings on his arm. "Aside from the bees that is."

"You're lying, but okay. Anyone would be messed up after being yelled at like that. Stop scratching, you'll make yourself bleed." Iron Bull pulled Dorian's hand away and shoved a handkerchief at him because that was the type of friend he was. Dorian smiled, grateful for his massive presence at his side.

He dipped the handkerchief in his ale and pressed the damp cloth to the stings. The cool made them feel . . . well, better was stretching the truth, but less like he wanted to claw at them. It wasn't much of a distraction.

"What Max's dad said wasn't right," Iron Bull went on.

"For those with a limited world view of my country, he's not exactly wrong either," Dorian said, resigned.

"Stop it. He was Chantry this and Chantry that. We're not the Chantry here, and those that know better, know how the world works. Max knows better."

The look on Max's face when his father said those things, like he was confused or half a breath from agreeing. Dorian forgot how painfully young he was in so many ways, having grown up sheltered in the Chantry as he had. Max understood the hurts of a cruel world, but never the cruelty of family. He let out a sigh.

"What? Come on, what was that? What are you thinking?" Bull prodded, nearly taking an eye out with his horns when he turned to study Dorian's face.

"Nothing."

"That wasn't a nothing sigh."

"It's really nothing. I just," Dorian sighed again and took a long drink. He was saved from answering by the door banging open just then, and Cullen storming in like a thundercloud. 

"Dorian!" He strode over to their table when he saw them. "Are you all right?" The question came out like an order to his troops, his eyes roving over Dorian as if looking for a physical wound.

"Why is everyone asking that? Of course I'm all right!" he snapped.

"He's not," Bull told Cullen over his head. "You want a drink?"

"No. Thank you." Cullen sat himself on Dorian's other side still looking him over intently.

Dorian pushed his ridiculously armored shoulder in an effort to get him to go away.

"I'm fine."

"We walked into chaos in the Hall. Vivienne filled us in, and Josephine is spitting mad," Cullen said.

"That was Sera and her bees," said Dorian. "How's Max?"

"Disappeared somewhere. I assume Sera's doing. Why he didn't put a stop to his father's ranting—"

"Don't be too hard on him," Dorian interrupted, thinking again of how lost Max had looked. "I don't think he's ever clashed with his father like this before. No matter how poor Lord Trevelyan's reaction, it's not easy breaking with your parents. I don't blame him for hesitating."

Both Iron Bull and Cullen knew a little of his own fraught parental relationships. Dorian was grateful when they let him stare into his cups in peace and didn't comment. Bull even topped him off from his his own tankard, and Dorian drank deeply. The alcohol was beginning to do its work, dreadful as it was.

"I should probably talk to him later," he said. 

"He should apologize to you," Cullen said, finally turning to sit in his chair properly. He rapped his fingers on the tabletop in an agitated cadence.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to let things get so out of hand," Dorian found himself saying. 

"Even so."

The sincerity in Cullen's tone made Dorian close his eyes for a moment as his feelings threatened to overwhelm him. The care wrapped up in such insistence was not something he was accustomed to, nor something he thought he often deserved. It was too much right then. 

Dorian didn't trust himself to speak and the moment stretched like taffy. 

"Max is a good kid," Iron Bull said to fill it. "I'm sure he'll want to make things right."

Cullen sighed and his chair creaked. Dorian finally looked up to find him standing. "He better," he said. His hand came up to pat Dorian briefly on the shoulder, there and gone so quickly he might have imagined it were it not for the warm imprint left behind. Worry still clouded his expression.

"Really, Cullen, I'm fine." Dorian didn't want him to worry so. "I'll sort things out with Max. I won't hold his father against him."

Cullen didn't appear any less worried as he took his leave, needing to get back to his duties. Dorian watched him go then turned back to his ale with a sigh. What a mess this was.

"So," Iron Bull nudged him, surprisingly gentle. "Cullen's worried about you."

"He shouldn't be." He shook his head, but couldn't deny that it was nice to be worried over. "I wish he wouldn't. He has enough to worry about without me being a burden."

"I'm pretty sure a burden is the last thing he thinks you are."

Dorian was sharp enough to catch his meaning, even if he didn't quite believe it, and he rolled his eyes expressively to make his point. But Bull just gave him a knowing look, and it was the alcohol that eventually made Dorian flush under that stare. 

"Look, Cullen is charming-"

"-handsome-"

"-an excellent chess player-"

"-good with his sword-"

"-and my friend," Dorian gave Bull a reproving look for his color commentary. Bull had the audacity to grin at him. "He blushes prettily when I flirt but he most definitely doesn't flirt back." Dorian let out another weighty sigh and admitted, "Trust me, I would have noticed." Oh, how he had tried to get any sort of reaction that didn't scream repressed Templar, looked for any hint of Cullen's preferences.

Iron Bull leaned in a little closer, his eyes serious. "Dorian," he pointed at the door. "That was a man who came in here to check up on you, and he wasn't looking at you like you were just a friend."

Dorian scoffed. He scoffed because his heart had started thumping. The Iron Bull was an excellent judge of people and if said Cullen might—but Dorian stopped that trail of thought because if he was wrong, he wouldn't be able to bear it. Cullen had never given him any sign after all. Though he tried to hide it, some of that must have played out on his face because Bull's expression softened even more and he clasped Dorian's nearest shoulder in his massive hand and shook him a little.

"Ah, you've got it bad, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dorian said with all his remaining dignity. "Just let me drown my feelings in peace."

Because he was a good friend, Iron Bull even bought him another round.

* * *

So that was that then, Cullen thought as he returned to his office and the daily reports. He stared at the stack on his desk not really seeing them. Instead his thoughts were back in the tavern on Dorian and the soft expression on his face when he spoke of forgiving Max. Dorian had always had a soft spot for their Inquisitor. Cullen sighed. If Josephine and Leliana were wondering whose heart Max might be better suited to matching they ought to look Dorian's way.

Cullen couldn't begrudge either of his friends. They were well-suited and thick as thieves about the castle. They had been fast friends from the moment they'd met. He was happy they had each other.

Which was probably why he was so disappointed in Max not standing up for Dorian. Even if Dorian was ready to forgive him already, Cullen knew how much the insults to his country and his person cut. He'd had a firm word with his soldiers not long after they'd arrived at Skyhold after over-hearing some of the things they'd said. Some things that Cullen might have said himself in his younger years, before he'd gotten his head out of his ass and vowed to listen to all-comers and make his own decisions about the value of a man's worth. 

Dorian had proved his over and over again by his actions. He'd become a good friend over their chess matches, a good conversationalist and, despite Dorian's endless flirting to make him blush, Cullen quite enjoyed their banter. Or maybe it was because of the flirting.

Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, retracting the thought as soon as he had it. It would come to nothing, and Dorian clearly cared for Max in a way that he never would for Cullen. He was a crusty old Templar while Max was steadfast and easy to talk to, with a smile that brought people closer together. It didn't ease the ache in his chest, but Cullen had his duty and he had their friendship and it was enough. They had a war to win, so it was better this way in the end. He had work to do anyway.

* * *

"You have got to stop giving a shite about what your father thinks!" Sera threw her arms wide from her perch on his desk. 

Max sighed in frustration and asked Andraste for patience. "I just told you why I can't ignore him!" 

They'd been hiding in his apartment for the last hour or so since the debacle in the Hall. More than one soldier on duty had banged on his door, and Max was certain that he saw a flash of one of Leliana's people out using a spy glass from the tower across the garden courtyard. 

While running amid a storm of bees had certainly been the right decision in the moment, the gnawing guilt and shame in Max's stomach had only grown like a hungry beast. He'd let everyone down. He was a terrible Inquisitor, a worse son, and he didn't know how he was going to face the music and fix this mess. His father was a lord of means and influence, and before his arrival Josephine had impressed upon Max how important this could be for their alliances in the Marches. 

"He's just another snotty lord if you ask me," Sera retorted. "He'd do well with some bees dropped down his breeches."

"Please don't put bees in my father's breeches," Max said, though the he couldn't quite repress the smile at the mental image that brought to mind.

"Snakes then. Wanting to sell you like you're not worth ten of him," Sera grumbled. "That's the thing you always forget because you're good people. You're the bloody Inquisitor. He should be groveling to you for forgiveness. You're the one with the army."

"I'm not going to send my army after my father just because he wants arrange a marriage and insult my friends," Max scoffed. 

"You probably wouldn't have to even ask with the way Cullen was storming about afterward."

"What?"

Sera jerked her head toward the balcony and the rest of Skyhold. After Max had holed up in his rooms, she'd gone back out on reconnaissance and to seal his door at the foot of the stairs.

"Heard him shouting after Vivvy told them about the spittle. He was in a right state about your dad insulting Dorian." 

Max closed his eyes as another wave of guilt washed through him. "I wish I could have stopped him. I should have said . . . anything." He'd frozen up at Father's horrible rant. It had been awful.

"I bet Dorian would feel better if you put bees down his breeches."

"Sera—"

"Well you have to make it up to him somehow."

"I know, I know!" Max flopped back on his bed. He was a coward while Cullen was doing all the things he was too afraid to for fear of what Father would do next. When it came to making his opinions known, Cullen had no fear. He didn't hold back or worry that the consequences would be so dire. He was strong and stalwart, and clever on top of it, with his strategies well thought out as he presented them. When he argued with Leliana and Josephine, he held his own and changed his plans as needed. When they talked, he never made Max feel like he was an idiot, as he often felt wandering around in the dark as the Inquisitor. The only time he'd ever seen Cullen doubt himself was when he was in the grip of the lyrium withdrawal. Max's heart had never hurt so much as when he'd come upon him in pain. 

Except perhaps now, when he knew the hurt his father had caused Dorian. Dorian who was perhaps his closest friend aside from Sera. Whose sly humor cheered him up and whose companionship he'd never had cause to doubt. When he needed to call on a mage, Dorian helped him without trying to browbeat him into a cause. When he needed a shoulder to lean on, Dorian provided one. 

And what had he done this time when Dorian had needed him? Nothing but run like a coward. 

"Do you think Cullen went to check on Dorian?" he asked Sera.

"He was headed that way. Two of them are close, yeah? Always in the garden together."

Max lifted his head to look at her, his gut clenching again. "Are they . . . Do you think . . .?

"Are they trading spit and playing hide the sausage? If they're not now they will be soon the way they look at each other." 

"Oh." Max let his head drop down, a strange disappointment filling him, most of it directed at himself. He'd thought he and Dorian had been dancing toward something. It had been harmless flirting at first but after they'd come back from Redcliffe something had shifted, and Max had thought more than once about pushing his luck. 

He'd ruined it all now of course. After today why would Dorian want anything to do with him? He should be glad Dorian had Cullen. He knew they were friends. He'd been the one to suggest to Dorian to seek out Cullen for chess. He hadn't wanted Dorian to have no one to talk to when Max was away without him. But telling himself that didn't make the disappointment go away. It just turned the knife deeper.

In one of her rare displays of sensitivity, Sera came and flopped down on the bed beside him, pillowing her head on her hands.

"You're feeling sorry for yourself, Inky."

"Don't call me that."

"Inky." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Look, you can't mope up here forever. If you do, your shite dad wins, and Dorian deserves better. He's all right for a mage."

"He deserves better than me," Max said, morosely. "Hey!" he shouted when Sera smacked him. "What was that for?"

"Get up!" She sat up and pulled him with her. 

Max went rather than get smacked again or have an unpleasant surprise later. 

Sera got right up in his face, and he forced himself not to flinch back. "You're being an soppy sour puss." She punctuated this by shoving at his shoulders, rocking him back. "Crying into your sheets isn't going to make things right. Time to pull up your britches and tell your dad to shove it and tell Dorian that he makes your pants tingle."

"Sera!" Max was accustomed to her crude language, but that made him blush. He floundered for words amid too many conflicting feelings all vying to burst free. "But he and Cullen—" he started. 

"How does that matter? You like Dorian, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to go destroying what he has with Cullen. He won't want me anyway after my father-"

"That's why you have to deal with your father first!"

A crash of noise from the window interrupted. Max glanced at the balcony where the faint but unmistakeable sounds of swords crossing wafted up from the grounds below. For a long moment, he stared at the window, then back at Sera, trying to reconcile the sound of battle in Skyhold. Then the two of them were scrambling for the stairs, Max collecting his bow along the way, praying that this new mess was not the war coming to their doorstep.

* * *

The noise of steel on steel from the lower courtyard had every person in the tavern rushing for the door to see what was happening. Iron Bull called for his Chargers and Dorian hurried after them, cursing himself for leaving his staff in his room. He twitched his fingers, getting a sparkle of fire in his palm. He hadn't had time to properly drown his sorrows and the rush of mana helped clear his head.

Bull shouldered his way to the front of the crowd lining the top of the wall that looked down on the lower courtyard. Dorian easily found a spot by his side as they took in what was happening below.

Two groups of soldiers had drawn swords on each other. The smaller group was in the familiar uniform of the Inquisition, while the slightly larger group was in the livery of Lord Trevelyan's personal guard. Both sides were shouting—

"Mage lovers! You'll burn in the Void!"

"Rabble! Who do you think you are!"

"At least we're not licking Tevinter ass!"

"No, you lick your mother with that mouth!"

The steel crossed hadn't killed anyone yet, but it was escalating quickly.

Dorian had a moment to curse and exchange a tense look with Iron Bull. But they'd barely moved toward the stairs before there was a clatter from the battlements. Cullen led a squad of Inquisition soldiers down he stairs, and when he was half-way down, he set a hand to the stone bannister and jumped the rest of the way to the courtyard like a vengeful god.

"That. Is. Enough!" Cullen bellowed, drawing his sword in a smooth motion. 

He strode right into the middle of the fray, knocking soldiers from both sides back with the flat of his blade, wielding it with a skill and deftness that made it look easy. Dorian couldn't help the way his heartbeat ticked up a notch watching Cullen move, one man among twenty, turning aside poorly thought strikes made amidst the chaos with grace and power. He was beautiful and deadly, and the combination on display made Dorian's mouth go dry.

The Inquisition soldiers fell back almost immediately. The Trevelyan guard put up more of a struggle, a few of them not knowing who they were dealing with until Cullen soundly disarmed first one, then kicked another that tried to come at his side, laying him out. The Inquisition soldiers rounded up the rest until the trespassers were separated by a good dozen paces, leaving Cullen in the between them with a glower that spoke volumes. 

He paid no heed to the onlookers. Commotion from the stairs above to the Great Hall soon revealed Max and Sera followed by Lord Trevelyan, Max's brother and others from their retinue. Cullen ignored them too.

"This is the Inquisition!" Cullen's voice carried across the entire courtyard, to the stairs and battlements. He turned slowly as he spoke, addressing all who watched. "We are the light of Thedas against the dark forces that caused the Breach and seek to destroy us. All of us. That means what's left of the Chantry, that means the people who've gathered here, that means Orlais, and Ferelden, Navarra, the Marches, and Tevinter. That means mages."

Cullen had every eye on him, and when he said the last, his gaze fell on Dorian, rending him to his soul with the force of his conviction. For a moment, Dorian wasn't sure he could breathe.

"You want to disagree, you walk out that gate, but I'll not stand for swords or insults raised against our allies in Skyhold. Any of them. Is that clear?" When he finished speaking, Cullen was staring straight at Lord Trevelyan.

"Aye, ser!" a cry went up from the Inquisition soldiers, loud and clear. Hearing them, hearing the immediate support for their commander, made Dorian's heart stutter. It was a declaration of support for every misfit and renegade that had joined the Inquisition. For his fellow mages who bore the brunt of suspicion from outsiders. Dorian's chest felt too small to hold the swell of emotion that was making his throat stick, because it was a declaration of support from the Inquisition's Commander for him.

* * *

"This is outrageous!" Lord Trevelyan strode through the Great Hall as if he owned it. 

"Then get a hold of your men!" Cullen snapped, uncaring of any glares Josephine or Leliana might send his way. Cullen's temper was dangerously close to the surface, and the man's sheer arrogance set his teeth on edge.

"My men are not the problem here!" 

"Lord Trevelyan, perhaps this is better discussed in my office," Josephine cut in, stepping up beside Cullen. She didn't send any disapproving looks his ways, and half a step behind and on her other side, Leliana gave Cullen a short nod. Cullen nodded back, bolstered by their support. 

When he'd heard the fight in the courtyard and the filth the Trevelyan's soldiers were spewing, he hadn't been able to let the politics play out. He wasn't going to let such insults to Dorian and the Inquisition go unanswered.

The nobles and merchants who often lingered in the Hall were no doubt relishing the spectacle. A quick glance showed that they were at the edges of the room watching how it would play out, a sequel to this morning's excitement.

"Father!" Max stood at the foot of the dais at the front of the hall. Varric and Vivienne stood with him, while Sera lounged on the throne. Solas was not far away by the door to the library. Across from Cullen at the head of the other trestle table had gathered Dorian, Iron Bull, and Cassandra. Blackwall was by the main door, having followed Cullen up, and even Cole had turned up on the balcony above.

"You're going to let this—" Lord Trevelyan waved a searching hand, disgust on his face "— this failed Templar insult me?"

For a moment, Cullen feared that Max would wilt under his father's temper. He braced himself to argue his point as he watched a series of emotions flicker over Max's face to fast to catch. But instead of succumbing to the browbeating as he had that morning, he straightened up the way Cullen had watched him do over and over again from the moment he learned of the Breach in the sky.

"Father. That is enough!" Max raised his voice to carry, every inch the Inquisitor.

Lord Trevelyan froze. He turned toward his son as if he'd never seen him before.

He hadn't, Cullen thought with a satisfied smirk and pride in his heart as Max stared his father down and did not bend.

"Commander Cullen is responsible for the safety of defenses of the Inquisition and you and your men are not exempt from his oversight while within these walls."

"His men—"

"My men, father," Max interrupted. "I am lord of this castle."

The Hall was so silent you could have heard a spirit on the wind. Max stood tall and proud. He wore a simple combination of leather and courtly clothes, and his bearing held the confidence won from battle rather than his birth.

"Commander Cullen's council is invaluable to me and this cause. I'll thank you to apologize to him."

It was long moments before Lord Trevelyan broke his gaze from Max's, angry and unwilling when he shot a glare full of daggers at Cullen. But he held back whatever insults were still left on his tongue, not yet willing to concede, but not fool enough to miss that his younger son was not the boy he'd been that morning.

"My apologies, Commander," he said at last, grit in every word. "I will remind my men that we are guests here."

Cullen graciously inclined his head. "Thank you," he said, allowing himself to savor the victory. He darted a look toward Dorian who wore a vicious grin and didn't bother to try hiding it, instead grinning wider when he caught Cullen's eyes on him. In a moment of perfect clarity, Cullen felt as if he and Dorian were sharing the same satisfaction of seeing Max stand up to his father, and the feeling only soared at their Inquisitor's next words.

"You owe Dorian an apology as well for your conduct this morning." 

"What?" Lord Trevelyan turned sharply on his son, but Max didn't flinch.

"Dorian Pavus is a steadfast companion to me and a shining example of the good and righteous among the Inquisition. He has saved my life more times than I can count. Without him, the Inquisition would have faltered in its first steps and Thedas would be no more than ruins now. He is dedicated to seeing evil fall and has put everything he has at risk, walked away from power and security to lend his staff to our fight. You might fault him for being a mage, but his gifts are from the Maker himself and he has earned every bit of my very high regard. I will not let the insults to him stand."

Lord Trevelyan's face went red in his rage. 

Across the room Dorian's mouth had opened, a look of utter shock on his face that took him a moment to school. Bull slapped him on the back with a hearty, "Hear hear!" that started a round of approving murmurs from the audience of Inquisition supporters. Dorian was no foreign threat to the men and women in this hall. He drank with them, talked with them, fought with them. Cullen couldn't have been prouder of the Inquisition and Max for standing up for Dorian.

Lord Trevelyan knew when he'd been outplayed, but he stood stiff and glaring at his son nonetheless. Max stepped toward him, his expression softening.

"Father, the world is changing. We must change with it."

"And the marriage arrangement?" Lord Trevelyan snapped. 

Max looked him in the eye and did not bend. "We'll discuss it when this war is won."

"I cannot—"

"Father! That's my decision. You don't have to like it, but I don't need a marriage to win support from the Free Marches. Those who recognize the importance of our cause will not hesitate to join us. I hope you are one of them. There's so much more at stake than titles and land. You've always been a man who sees beyond his own gates. Is that not why you came?"

There was a long pause, and then Lord Trevelyan's shoulders straightened in a mirror of his son a few minutes earlier. They both stood proud before each other, and Cullen at saw the resemblance between them at last. 

"It is," Lord Trevelyan said, reclaiming his dignity. "It was always my intent to support you."

If Cullen hadn't been watching for it he would have missed Max's sharp inhalation and the tiny smile that followed. 

Lord Trevelyan turned away before he could comment, facing Dorian with a short bow that must have had some sort of significance because Dorian straightened up in response, surprised.

"Dorian of House Pavus, please accept my apology for my earlier words. If my son holds you in such esteem you must surely be worthy of it."

"Accepted," Dorian replied. 

Beside Cullen, Josephine gave the quietest excited squeal he'd ever heard in his life, but when he turned to look at her, she was perfectly composed. Leliana wore a smirk under that hood of hers, and Cullen had to stifle the sudden urge to hug both of them. He had to stifle the urge to stride across the hall and hug Dorian or Max, so proud and happy for both of them. 

As the impromptu audience broke up, and Lord Trevelyan retreated. The tension seeped out of Max, a brilliant smile breaking over his face like the sunrise. Cullen was drawn to it, and when Leliana gave him a shove toward him, he didn't resist. But Max only had eyes for Dorian, whose gaze was fixed on their Inquisitor in return, eyes shining. Cullen felt his steps falter, unwilling to intrude on their moment.

* * *

They ended up in Josephine's office with several bottles of wine and a small keg of ale that Varric had provided out of thin air. Max's head was still spinning from the confrontation with his father. He didn't know what was going to happen next. Would he be disowned? Would his father ever speak to him again? Max's hands were shaking—his whole body seemed to be vibrating. He still couldn't believe he'd done that, even among the hearty support of his companions and advisors who had gathered around him.

"That was better than bees in his breeches," Sera exclaimed.

"It was certainly impressive, Maxwell," Vivienne agreed.

"I still can't believe he unbent enough to apologize! To me! Max that was . . . " Dorian's giddy smile hadn't left his face since the Hall and that alone made it worth it. The fine buzz under his skin quieted in its radiance, and he couldn't stop staring at him, especially now with Dorian's eyes shining at him. 

Sera elbowed him again, but Max shoved back and otherwise ignored her, though he couldn't fight the blush. "I should have done that immediately when he first spoke this morning."

"And deprived us all of Cullen's performance! Where is that magnificent bastard?" Dorian looked around. Max glanced over toward the advisors in time to see the Cassandra tugging Cullen over to their group, Josephine and Leliana following. Iron Bull and Blackwall came over too at the commotion, and Varric pulled Cole from wherever he'd been hiding and shoved him in beside Sera. 

"Cullen! Defender of my honor!" Dorian said with that radiant smile turned on their commander. Max immediately felt his loss, but he couldn't begrudge Cullen its glow. If not for him, Max wouldn't have had the courage to follow his example and stand up to his father. So he drank when Dorian toasted Cullen, who rolled his eyes and blushed at the attention but bore it. The way he looked at Dorian in return, he knew his own feelings would have to be set aside. Sera was right. Cullen would do anything for Dorian. 

Max just wished he could tell Dorian that so would he.

Their impromptu party lasted a while, with those more responsible returning their duties and managing the diplomacy while the rest of them enjoyed their cups. Vivienne, Solas, and Blackwall were the first to depart, followed in short order by Cole, and then Varric who said he had to write all this down before he forgot it.

"Oh no!" Leliana said when Cullen tried to take his leave. "You've done quite enough today, and your captains can handle the fort. You sit and stay and take the evening off." She shoved him onto the divan beside Max and gave him a stern glare to stay put.

"And stay out of the way of our guests," Josephine said pointedly, which made Max, three cups in giggle.

"Please tell me I must avoid them as well," he said, leaning against Cullen's warm shoulder. 

Josephine gave him fond smile and shook her head. "Yes, you too, Max," she said.

"Oooh!" Sera abruptly jumped up, with a wild and manic expression that had all of them drawing back in alarm. "Dorian!" She bounced to the mage in the chair across from them and tugged him into her empty seat on the divan on Max's other side. "Keep him warm!" She ordered.

"Sera!" Max felt another blush come on, and hoped it would be hidden by the amount he'd had to drink. 

"Oh hush! I've got things that need doing!" Then she was gone, and the rest of them stared at each other until Leliana laughed.

"Let's just pretend we don't know what she's up to, shall we?" she suggested, and she and Josephine headed out.

Only Cassandra and Bull were left, with their heads bent close talking quietly by the hearth. Max was abruptly aware that he was sitting with Dorian on one side and Cullen on the other. He was still leaning on Cullen! 

He stood up—quickly enough to make is head rush.

"Max?" Cullen reached out and put a steadying hand on his hip. Max regained his balance and mustered up a smile that he hoped didn't look as awkward as it felt. 

"I'm fine," he said turning, and then his mouth took over and he added, "I just thought, if you wanted to sit next to each other."

Dorian and Cullen exchanged a look, and then to Max's astonishment Cullen stood. "No, no, I should let you two . . ." He waved between them, blushing. Max didn't understand. Dorian was looking back and forth between them like he didn't know what was happening either.

"Us two?" Dorian asked, waving at Max, his expression turning into a frown. "But—"

"I don't want to get in your way," Cullen said.

"Why would you be in the way? Aren't you two seeing each other? If anything I'm in the way!" Max was certain he was right. They only had eyes for each other, and Max had messed up so badly that morning that even though Dorian had forgiven him, it couldn't make up for failing him.

"We're not seeing each other," Dorian said.

"But you want to," Max insisted. 

"Well—"

"Dorian is interested in you!" Cullen said.

"What?"

"What?" 

Max's thoughts disappeared and he could only stare at Cullen, who was looking between the two of them with a frown. "Well, aren't you?" he demanded of Dorian.

Dorian was as frozen as Max was. Max was so confused, his heart feeling tender, like he was on the verge of having it broken.

"Andraste give me patience!" Cassandra snapped from the hearth. Max had completely forgotten she and Bull were there. Bull was grinning like this was the best entertainment he could have asked for, and Cassandra was rolling her eyes as she came over, with a stern expression on her face. "How did you three get this all mixed up?"

"I'm really not sure I'm following," Dorian said faintly. Max shook his head in agreement. He needed to sit down. Helpfully there was space on the divan.

"Cullen's in love with Dorian," Iron Bull said.

"And Dorian is in love with both of you," Cassandra said.

"And Max spends nearly all his free time with one of the two of you," Bull said.

"And Cullen, when you're not staring at Dorian, you're staring at Max." Cassandra folded her arms across her chest. She gave each of them a look with that eyebrow of hers raised as if to say that she expected better of them. 

Max didn't dare glance at either Cullen or Dorian. He felt like his whole brain had been scooped out and flipped upside down.

"Perhaps you _three_ should go discuss this upstairs," Cassandra suggested impatiently when none of them spoke or moved.

"And fuck," the Iron Bull said with a shit-eating grin. "Definitely fuck."

Max's face had never been so hot with blushing. He was sure he was red from his ears to his toes. But three cups in, he also couldn't deny that another kind of heat was surging through him, one that met the tenderness in his heart, and instead of breaking it, filled it with joy to overflowing.

* * *

Dorian never thought that he would be here, in the Inquisitor's bedchamber, with not only his dear Max, but his dear Cullen too. The two of them still looked a little shocked from the revelations thrust upon them by Cassandra and Iron Bull, hopeless romantics the both of them. They stood in a loose circle looking from one to another and no one seemed to know where to start.

Dorian felt marginally more prepared, having had his revelation about Cullen just before lunch, and Max . . . He'd said it already downstairs, but perhaps it was worth saying again. He took a step closer to them both, and took Cullen's hand in his right hand and Max's in his left. 

"Cassandra was right, you know," he said keeping his tone light. "I am in love with both of you."

"This morning —" Max started but Dorian squeezed his hand.

"I know how hard it is to break with your family. You more than made up for it this afternoon." That moment that Max had extolled his virtues to his father and the Inquisition was one that Dorian would treasure for the rest of his life. He'd never, ever had someone so forcefully defend him that way before. He took a half step forward, tugging Max closer until he could lean in and set the gentlest and most thankful of kisses to his lips.

Max tensed up for a moment, but then sighed and pressed his lips to Dorian's in return. It was soft and chaste and Dorian felt like someone treasured. They separated, and Max looked him right in the eyes, the confidence of the Inquisitor replacing the uncertain young man of earlier.

"I meant every word," he said, reaching up to cup Dorian's cheek with his free hand. His touch was tentative at first, then settled. Dorian felt the very air in the room lift him up, and he had to blink quickly lest his emotions get the best of him.

A tug on his other hand from Cullen was a welcome distraction, at least until Dorian saw the crease between his eyes. Cullen was trying to pull free, but Dorian knew that if he let go now, then Cullen might run, and he couldn't have that.

"And you!" he said, holding on to him tighter.

"Dorian, don't. I should leave you two—"

"When I saw you wade into that fight and put those men in their place I have never seen anyone as incandescently beautiful. You did all that for me, and I—" This time Dorian wasn't fast enough to stop the stray tears that gathered in his eyes, so overcome with the feelings of love and care and devotion that these two ridiculous men held toward him.

Cullen's expression eased, melting into something like hope. Dorian took a half step toward him, but it was Cullen who closed the distance, bringing his hand up to grasp the back of Dorian's neck. 

Cullen's kiss was full of passion, as if once the decision had been made he threw his whole being into it. Much like he did in combat, Dorian was sure. And when he guided Dorian's head to tilt and licked along the seam of his lips, Dorian gave himself up to the kiss, opening up for Cullen, yielding to him like a flower thirsty for sunlight.

He was breathing hard when they broke. Max squeezed Dorian's hand, looking flushed when Dorian glanced over. Max grinned at him, his eyes shining as they then moved to Cullen, who ducked his head, inexplicably shy.

"You are both so beautiful together," Max said.

"I can still leave," Cullen said quietly, looking up.

"Please stay," Max said. "Cullen, I hold you no less dear in my heart than Dorian. Today, when you spoke up in the courtyard, you showed that you have the purest heart of any of us—"

"I don't! The mistakes I've made—"

"But you fix them," Max said, grasping his arm, his expression so earnest it hurt. "You didn't let my father's slander stand. You showed me the way to my own courage to face him as a man should when his friends are wronged. You are steadfast and true and I wouldn't be the man I am today without you."

Cullen had gone still, his grip on Dorian's hand unbearably tight and the expression on his face unbearably open. 

"Oh kiss already!" Dorian said, unable to take the tension any longer. It startled a laugh out of Max, and Cullen, if anything, melted at the sound, a soft smile breaking free. He leaned toward Max, who met him halfway, and Dorian's breath caught watching the sweetness of their kiss. Cullen was still smiling when they stepped back, and Max's smile had morphed into a grin. The three of them were all holding hands now, and Dorian felt the last of the nervous tension in the air heighten into anticipation.

It was unbearable to take. Dorian shook both hands he held to get their attention, arching an eyebrow for effect. "I do believe I need both of you to ravish me now."

"Oh you do, do you?" Max laughed again. It seemed now that he'd started he couldn't stop.

"I do!" Dorian replied, then squeaked as Cullen, the mountain troll, swept Dorian off of his feet and into his muscular arms like a blushing bride and carried him to Max's quite ample bed. Dorian bounced as he hit the mattress. 

Cullen began stripping off his armor, and Dorian began to do the same until Cullen got down to his under tunic and bared his glorious chest. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist that was all muscle, marred only by scars that showed the trials of his life. They only added to his beauty. Dorian's mouth went dry at the sight, eyes drinking him in. Cullen caught his eye, the corner of his scarred lip lifting into a smirk. 

Max stepped up behind him. He was shorter than Cullen, so Dorian couldn't see him very well except for his arms that wrapped around Cullen and smoothed down his chest. Cullen's breath hitched, head tilting back though his eyes didn't leave Dorian's. Max peeked over his shoulder, nuzzling at Cullen's neck and dropping little kisses. His fingers found Cullen's nipple, and Cullen groaned from deep in his throat and palmed his own cock through his trousers.

Dorian's cock swelled at the sight. Cullen's usually rigid control was unraveling before his eyes, and it was beautiful. Unable to wait, Dorian scooted off the bed and onto his knees in front of him. He pulled Cullen's hand away and made short work of the laces on his trousers while Cullen's fingers threaded through his hair, tugging against his scalp in a way that sent shivers down Dorian's back.

"Dorian—" he gasped. Dorian pulled his trousers down around his thighs. Cullen's cock was thick and hard already, hanging over a thatch of brown curls that smelled of musk and leather. He grinned up at Cullen, whose expression had gone slack and aroused. Max's nimble fingers tugged at both nipples, rosy and peaked from the attention, and when Dorian licked a stripe up his cock, Cullen's whole body jerked. 

Dorian's own desire flooded him at the first taste and only built when he pushed back Cullen's foreskin and licked the crown with the flat of his tongue. He'd admired Cullen from afar all these months, daydreamed about getting his mouth on him, but nothing compared to the real thing. Earthy and with the hint of salty pre-come, Dorian opened his jaw and sucked him down. Cullen's cock filled his mouth, and he bobbed his head to take in more, letting his hands wrap around what he couldn't fit. Dorian loved every moment, closing his eyes as he set to work, spurred on by the little noises from Cullen above him and the hand heavy on his head. 

"Oh fuck," Max's voice was hoarse, and Dorian nearly choked at the pure want in his voice that sent a shudder through him. He pulled back, looking up through his eyelashes till he caught Max's gaze, only the tip of Cullen's cock in his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks without looking away, and watched Max's hungry face as he sucked until Cullen's hips bucked. 

Cheek to cheek with Max, Cullen's mouth hung open and panting. Shifting his attention to watching him, Dorian sucked Cullen's cock in once more. This time when the tip hit the back of his throat, he opened his jaw wider, took him past his gag reflex, and swallowed.

Cullen started pulling on his hair again, hips making small abortive movements to fuck Dorian's mouth, babbling now, "Oh fuck, Dorian, if you don't stop I'm gonna come—just wait, let me—"

Dorian was a merciful man, pulling off with a slick pop. "Wouldn't want you to come prematurely," he said, his own voice gravelly. Cullen gave him a little smile, chest heaving. 

"No. Not before I've taken care of you and Max."

"I can wait—"

But Cullen was already twisting and tugging Max around. Max stumbled against him, but caught his balance quickly and pushed up against Cullen to kiss him again. Dorian shed the rest of his clothes, unable to take his eyes off of them. He stroked his cock, heat pooling as Max's tongue fucked into Cullen's mouth. But Cullen was a single-minded man. He walked Max toward the bed, hands on his hips to guide him. He kicked his trousers and undergarments the rest the way off, then pushed Max onto the covers.

"Get undressed," Cullen told Max, reaching for Dorian and reeling him in for a searing kiss that was all tongue and teeth, open-mouthed and sloppy. 

Somewhere in there, between Dorian pressing himself fully against Cullen, both of them gloriously naked, they too tumbled to the bed, and then Dorian was lost in what felt like a sea of hands and skin, kisses against the back of his neck that made him shiver and teasing caresses up his sides, over his chest and belly that made him writhe with pleasure. 

One moment he kissed Cullen's shoulder, licked his way to the underside of his jaw. Another, he turned and found Max's chest, nuzzling through the dusting of hair to a pert nipple, flicking it with his tongue until Max groaned, clutching at his head. Lost and drunk on sensation, Dorian didn't know where each of them ended or began.

"Dorian, oh Dorian," Max moaned into his collarbone. He'd ended up straddling Dorian's thigh, and his cock left a wet mark against Dorian's hipbone where he was rubbing himself. Dorian's eyes opened a slit and watched him chase his pleasure. Max was gorgeous, his lithe body all lean muscle and freckled skin that undulated against him.

Dorian had to grip his own cock to keep himself from coming from the sight. "Oil," he gasped. "Please tell me you have some."

"In the bath."

"I'll get it." Cullen extracted himself from where he'd been pressed up behind Dorian nibbling his shoulder, leaving draft. 

Dorian took the opportunity to set himself up on the pillows and drag Max between his legs. Max fell against him, and Dorian captured his slick lips, blindly searching between them until he had Max in hand too. Max shuddered when he stroked him.

Then Cullen was back against him, and they rearranged again. Dorian whined when Max slid to his other side, his attention on Cullen's fingers instead of Dorian, but then those fingers were slipping between Dorian's legs to circle over the tight rim of his entrance. It was Dorian's turn to shudder, as if he'd been touched by a spark of electricity. Cullen had that little smirk on his face again as he teased and circled, getting Dorian wet before pressing the tip of his finger in. 

All three of them gasped. Dorian felt pleasure flood him, accompanied by the slight discomfort that passed when Cullen withdrew and pushed in again, a little deeper this time. His body felt lit up from the inside, pleasure building with every tiny thrust. 

Cullen's expression had turned fond, and he paid close attention to Dorian's reactions, adjusting at every small sound, pressing deeper when Dorian's pressed himself for more. Dorian couldn't take the love and care he saw there, his heart beating fast and feeling too full to hold it all. 

But looking at Max was no better. Their Inquisitor was gazing at him with such wanton lust, eyes fixated on Cullen's finger disappering inside of Dorian's hole. He pumped his cock in his fist to the same rhythm, flushed red from his chest to his ears. Dorian felt exposed under that gaze, on display and loving both their attention even as it was almost too much to bear.

"What—what does it feel like?" Max asked. 

"Tight and perfect," Cullen responded, taking Max's free hand and coating it in oil and then bringing it to join his own at Dorian's entrance. Together they pushed in, and Dorian moaned at the stretch of two fingers. Max's inexperience was tempered by Cullen's low-voiced guidance and the two of them proceeded to drive Dorian mad. 

"Oh fuck! More!" he cried, and they both pressed in past the first knuckle. Cullen was panting now too, and Dorian had to kiss him. He tangled his fingers in his short blond hair and fucked his tongue into his mouth while the two of them fingered him open. 

"Cullen, Max—" Dorian couldn't wait any longer.

"It's all right, Dorian." Cullen soothed his free hand down Dorian's chest. "We'll take care of you. Max," he said, and then they were pulling their fingers out and leaving Dorian devastatingly empty, clenching around thin air. Cullen took charge of Max who seemed as lost for words as Dorian and guided him between Dorian's legs. Then he shifted and wrapped his arms around Max from behind. 

Dorian watched Cullen stroke Max's s cock in his big hands and then guide him to Dorian's hole. Max's dick was a good size, the blunt head feeling huge and wonderful as he pressed in. His face showed every flick of pleasure that Dorian felt mirrored on his own face as Cullen guided him to slowly and steadily fill him up.

It took three ever deepening thrusts until Max was fully seated. Dorian clutched at the straining muscles of Max's forearms where he was braced above him. 

"All right?" Dorian asked, the pleasure and arousal on Max's face a joy to see, a joy to be part of.

"Yeah." Max looked like he was about to come apart. "You?"

"I love your cock in me," he said, clenching down and eliciting a deep moan from Max, who buried his head in the crook of Dorian's neck, licking and biting in a frantic surge of need, even as he kept his lower half sweetly still.

Dorian gave a thrust of his own hips ready for Max to move. Max was eager to oblige, starting slow and then picking up speed until he was pounding Dorian's ass, each thrust going deep and hard, sometimes brushing against that spot inside that sent sparks up Dorian's spine to the top of his head. Dorian met him thrust for thrust, desperate for it. He clutched at the sheets, and found Cullen had moved up beside him. Cullen had one hand was on his cock, fucking his hand while he watched Max and Dorian. His other he brought to Dorian's belly, just pressing there for a wild minute—Dorian jerked at the touch, so close now—and then sliding lower until he got his hand on Dorian's shaft.

His touch set pleasure cascading through Dorian, who arched up, desperate and aching for it. Dorian was going to combust. It took two strokes, three, and then he was bucking against them both as pleasure crashed over him. Max thrust again and again, and then his hips stuttered following him over, Cullen not long behind them with panting gasps as white stripes shot from his fist-enclosed cock, landing hot and searing on Dorian and Max both. 

They collapsed in a heap. Dorian was in the middle and underneath the other two who were delightfully warm. Cullen nuzzled at his chin for a kiss, and then leaned across Dorian to pull Max in for one too. Dorian stretched after Max pulled out, his limbs languid with satisfaction. He wrapped an arm around Max and claimed his own kiss, this one soft and full of all the tenderness and care he felt for him. Cullen pillowed his head on Dorian's chest and let out the most satisfied sigh he'd heard from the man yet.

"You're not allowed to get married," Dorian told Max, feeling sleep coming on.

Max brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Except to you two," he said.

Dorian had enough energy left to scoff. "Imagine your father's face when you tell him that," he said, getting two chuckles and another flurry of kisses from the men beside him, feeling cherished and loved as he never had before.

* * *

Cullen was the first to wake before dawn the next morning. At first he was disoriented. Too warm, not enough sky above him. But then the weight of a leg thrown across his, the fluff of dark hair in his face when he turned his head, and the feeling of a good night's sleep in a soft bed centered him where he was. His stomach growled. They had missed dinner the night before, waking after a nap to make love once more.

He nuzzled at the head of hair in his face—Dorian's—and dropped a kiss to the crown of his head. Curled up on his other side, Max stirred. Cullen marveled that he was allowed to stroke a hand down his flank as he woke up, that he could greet the Inquisitor with a smile and a kiss.

"Good morning," he said, pulling back. Max hummed, soft with sleep. He wiggled closer and kissed Cullen back, this time with a hint of tongue that promised more, but later.

"Morning." Max smiled at him, radiating happiness that took Cullen's breath away. It was a good start to the new day.


End file.
